Land of the Living
by Siobhan
Summary: Buffy does some thinking after Dead Things - B/S


Title: Land of the Living  
Author: Siobhan  
Rating: G  
Archive: If anyone's interested just let me know  
Feedback: I can take it, I'm tough (well not really - I'm a softie - but I can still take it)  
  
Spoilers: What I want to see in the birthday episode, so yeah, spoilers thru 6x14  
Disclaimers: Joss is Master of the Buffyverse and I own nothing but my daydreams  
  
Author's notes: Thanks to Degan for being such a great beta.  
  
******  
  
Land of the Living  
  
******  
  
Trust Spike to show up to the Slayer's birthday party with a demon in tow. I don't know who invited him, although I wouldn't put it past Dawn to do so. Xander's happy to see him - after all Spike brought beer. Willow doesn't seem to think it's strange that he's here. Dawn is, of course, ecstatic. Anya lectures him on not bringing me an expensive present. And Tara ... well, Tara is nothing if not open-minded, for which I am eternally grateful. It seems that no one but me thinks to wonder what he's doing here; my how things do change.  
  
And I can't even look him in the eye.  
  
I haven't seen him since I left him in the alley that day, since we had our ... whatever it was we had. I can't call it a fight; there was no fight - just me pounding on Spike and him letting me. When I left the police station I walked back past the alley to do something, I don't know what. I couldn't just leave him there, not after what I had done to him. But he was gone and I'm still not sure if I was relieved or sad; I just know that I can't meet his gaze.  
  
I let my eyes graze over his face without actually making any contact. He's still got a black eye, a swollen lip and a cut on his cheek. Xander jokes with him, asking if he finally welshed out on the wrong bet. Spike just gives a quick smile and says something about how he went left when he should have gone right. He doesn't look at me when he says it but I can still feel his awareness of me.  
  
I've been doing a lot of thinking since my mini-breakdown with Tara; never been big on the whole introspection thing - I'm much better at fighting than I am at thinking deep thoughts. But I kinda have no choice. This thing, this life I have for myself ... I can't fight it anymore. That's all I've been doing since my friends brought me back to the land of the living. Fighting against living, fighting against feeling. Dodge, punch, run. But I'm here and I'm not going anywhere so now I have to start thinking about what I'm doing. All that hitting and running have left me with some pretty major damage control, starting with Dawn. But I also have to do ... something about Spike. I just don't know what.  
  
Turns out Spike was wrong; turns out I'm not wrong. I'm the one and only original Buffy, inside and out. And if that's the case then what does that say about my actions? Maybe I'm not wrong but what I've been doing is. He loves me; I do know it. If I lied to myself before, our ... episode in the alley by the Police Station ... convinced me that I couldn't lie to myself anymore, not about Spike's feelings. Xander may say that it's not real, that Spike can't love but he's wrong. Spike can love, he does. He loves me.  
  
And if he loves me and I know it then that makes my behavior all the worse. And that is wrong. I begged Tara not to forgive me and she didn't, she just offered comfort. But Tara's not the one I need forgiveness from, she's not the one I need to ask for absolution.  
  
Spike finishes his beer. Out of the corner of my eye I see him get up and head towards the kitchen to get another one. So, here's my chance ... I'm a big, brave Slayer, right? Then why can't I get my legs to work?  
  
I force myself to walk into the kitchen; he's holding open the fridge door and just looking at the contents like he's waiting for them to speak to him or something - no wonder he and Dawn get along so well. They're so much alike sometimes. I can tell the minute he senses me behind him; his muscles tense and he takes a deep breath. He doesn't need to breathe - he's drinking in my scent. Sometimes I think that's sexy and sometimes it just reminds me that he's not human. Now ... it just makes me nervous because I know I can't put this off any longer.  
  
"Spike."  
  
"Slayer." He closes the door and turns to face me.  
  
I walk across the kitchen until I'm standing right in front of him. He doesn't move, just waits to see what I'm going to do to him now. I told myself that I wouldn't hide from what I had done to him, that I needed to face it. But right now all I'm facing is a tight, black T-shirt. I force my eyes up until I see his lip, still a little swollen from my fists. I notice something off to the side, turns out it's my hand reaching for his lips. How'd that happen? I don't recall telling my hand it could move. But it's not listening to me anymore.  
  
I touch his lip and he starts to move his head back, then forces himself to stay still. This close I can see other cuts, small ones that are almost completely healed but still there. Slowly I trace each one, very lightly. I don't want to cause him any more pain; I've done enough of that already. I move on to the cut on his cheek. It's pretty deep and has a way to go until it's healed. I trace over it, not touching it - it still looks painful. Was I wearing rings that night? I can't remember, so much is a blur. I must have been to cut him so badly.  
  
I've covered almost all of his wounds, there is just one more left and I know I'm avoiding it. I move my hand until it's hovering over his black eye. I force my eyes to meet his. For the first time since I realized back in that alley what I was doing to the man who loved me, I look in his eyes.  
  
He's staring at me with what I've come to call his Spike look. It's the one where he looks at me like he knows he could see to my very soul if I would just let him in. And this time I do.  
  
I touch his eye, "I'm sorry"  
  
"I know"  
  
"I ..." ok, now what? "I just ..."  
  
He lays a finger over my lips and gives me a small smile. I guess that means I'm not supposed to talk, right? He removes his finger and brushes back my hair, rubbing it slightly between his fingers, looking at me the whole time. When did Spike become so gentle? My eyes drift shut as he leans into me and I think thank God, it's been too long since I felt his lips against mine. But he surprises me yet again, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. I open my eyes when I feel his thumb gently rubbing the spot where his lips had just been.  
  
"Don't frown so, luv." His expression changes until I'm looking at his typical smirk. "You'll get wrinkles."  
  
And with that he walks out of the kitchen and back to the party.  
  
Well, that went better than I thought. So, what now? 


End file.
